Helena Writes #9: On similes, metaphors, and glimpses
I think the eyes open when one writes, just as they do when one paints, to a more subtle, finely-tuned world.
I’ve just looked up from my notebook. The snow on the hemlock trees past my window makes a fine, latticework pattern. I didn’t see that before I started this writing. It’s a glimpse, a vision of bright order. Outer to inner eyes. I think I’ve gasped...